Everlasting Bonds: Shade of Eventide
by Xanedis
Summary: Like reflections in a broken mirror, we were never exactly the same. One female, one male; one married the man, one became his friend. Fate sets another piece on the board: a girl of amethyst hair. The gemstone gamble turns treacherous, stakes growing higher than ever before. And among us is the Shade of Eventide, who never was and never will be again. *reworking of EB*
1. Heart of the Warrior-Woman

**Author's Notes: *clears his throat* Right. I suppose I should write something. I don't want to explain why this reworking of EB is here, but if you really want to know, just check my Tumblr(the whole explanation is there).**

**Anyway... I will start this by stating something right off the bat: there is NO guarantee that Shade of Eventide will be finished. Yes, I will try, and yes, it has the benefit of starting much later in the course of FEA's story****, thus benefitting from better pacing and stuff. Regardless, I do have my own project to work on, so please keep that in mind.**

**That said, I'll try to keep up a nice update schedule. Emphasis on trying.**

**Other than that... Yeah, there will be great many changes to the standard EB formula. However, it retains the name EB because it retains some story elements, but the flow of emotion and many, many other things are subject to change. Also, it'll have better pacing(hopefully).**

**Kindly leave a review if you liked the other EB, just so I know where people stand in regards to this one. And no, Wings of Despair won't set to flight again. Sorry. This will replace it and, hopefully, will become good enough to remedy some of WOD's faults and continue building on its strengths(battle scenes, anyone?).**

**Any questions you might have, PMs are for that(or reviews, whichever suits your fancy). Also, triple the normal amount of thanks to Tsuna, who kept kicking the dead body of the draft till it became something tangible(she wasn't NEARLY that violent, though).**

**Finally, I won't spoil the story's pairings. One should become apparent at the start and the others... Well, you'll figure them out. **

**Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

**Everlasting Bonds: Shade of Eventide**

_Heart of the Warrior-Woman_

"Robin!"

Chrom scoured the leather-tanned horizon, while trying to keep up a solid pace in the midst of the tents. He grimaced, holding his hand nervously on the hilt of Falchion. "Damn. Why did you have to disappear _now?_"

The tent flap next to him rustled suddenly, and soon, a head topped by ruffled purple hair bopped out, nodding to the tune of Chrom's steps. "Mmgh... What's the matter?"

"Not you." Chrom shook his head, continuing to walk past the man. "Go back to sleep."

"Maybe I will." The flap flowed back into its place as the man retreated to the dimness of his resting place.

Chrom stopped in his tracks, shifting his gaze towards the medium-sized abode. "Actually, have you seen-"

"Your wife?" the tactician's voice sounded from within. Then Chrom heard a muffled sound from within the tent: it sounded like _someone_ had crashed into his camp bed. "I was woken up by some lovesick loon going 'round the camp, shouting for his beloved. I haven't seen her - imagine the repercussions if I had_._"

Chrom sighed. "Well, thanks anyway."

"It was no trouble," Robin murmured.

Chrom resumed his search, twisting and weaving amongst the cooking fires and leather-wrapped armour parts on the ground. The camp was three days old, erected just outside the Valmese capital, whatever its name was. He'd have to ask Frederick about that. He didn't like forgetting names.

He trodded past the command tent - an ugly grey thing full of arrow-holes - marking the edge of the Shepherd encampment. It was likely that his wife had left the camp, in an attempt to clear her mind of all the background noise. She once said that there were always too many opinions to account for and that, at the same time, these thoughts and opinions offered nothing in ways of deep thinking and strategy.

That's what she had said, at least. Chrom made his way further toward the camp's boundary, and finally, outside its perimeter; from there, he stalked towards the closest hill he saw.

He knew that Frederick would've been worried sick, had he known that Chrom was going outside the camp without a proper, and preferably armoured**,** escort. However, Chrom also had another intution: that his wife would be someplace where she could see the landscape from above, and let her strategic intuition run amok, imagining tactical maneuvers of all sorts.

_A trait of a tactician,_ Chom surmised. The other Robin had the same habit.

Another habit that the two shared was their reluctance to bend when it came to their battle plans: they had butted heads more than once in the past.

And then there were the differences. The female tactician boiled fast and furious, but once her passions had dwindled her forgiveness could be easily sought. The male one angered less easily; however, that anger could see to a merciless and methodical slaughter of any army that he deemed unjust in their cause. On the other hand, his forgiveness was more easily sought in general as he was a laid-back soul at heart.

Hearing shuffling atop the hill, Chrom raised his head. A gentle breeze was blowing against the back of his neck and pushing the grass stalks down; its destination was the hilltop, where there stood a woman of long, purple hair, the wind twisting and curling in her locks.

"Did you find some clarity of mind?" he hailed the woman.

She turned towards him, an amused look on her face. "I did... Then I saw you, and lost it again."

Chrom grimaced. "How awfully romantic."

Robin walked to Chrom, leaning closer. "It's mostly about practicality," she said, sniffing at his neck. "Since the wind was blowing from your general direction."

"Your meaning...?"

"When's the last time you washed up?"

Chrom blinked. "The battle was only yesterday-"

"And you're not that lazy sham of a tactician, are you?" Robin set her hands on her hips."If you've got enough energy to seek me out, then you've got enough strength to go and wash up."

Chrom rolled his eyes. "Maybe I have priorities."

"Yeah?" Robin made a face. "What would these priorities be, if I may ask?"

"A wife, maybe?" Chrom suggested, leaning closer to her face. "And a beautiful one, at that."

"Mhm."

"You don't sound convinced."

"That was flattery, Chrom," she said, crossing her arms. "Now, let's hear something honest."

Chrom shook his head. He breathed in through his nose... and immediately noticed a certain tendency in the air.

He turned to face Robin again. "I suppose you need a bath as well."

Robin's face began to blossom in red.

Chrom succumbed to laughter.

###

"A letter?"

Chrom nodded to her, gesticulating towards the table. He didn't feel like speaking after having taken a long, warm bath and changed into a less spotty attire.

His wife approached the table, picking up the opened, brown envelope. She glared at the insignia on the broken seal. "Plegian? Phooey..."

Chrom sighed, collapsing further into his chair. He already knew the contents of the letter: it was a request to meet at the Plegian palace, so that Validar could relinquish Sable, the black gemstone, to his possession.

His wife glanced through the letter, then clicked her tongue. "This reeks of a trap."

"Yeah."

Robin raked her hair. "How does Validar even know about our gemstone search?"

"Perhaps he could anticipate our victory," Chrom offered.

"I just can't see why he would hope for it. I mean, I can, but..." Robin glanced about, frowns appearing on her face. "Ugh... Topic change. Where's the other... Er, my namesake?"

"I sent for him," Chrom answered. "But I suppose he could've been held up by something."

"Yeah." Robin huffed derisively. "Like more sleep."

Chrom shook his head. "Sure, he went right back to bed after I talked to him, but that doesn't mean-"

"Nah," Robin said. "I can see him in my mind's eye - that smiling face as he utters sleep-talk..."

"You really need to get a mental monocle, then," a voice hailed from outside the tent. A hand appeared at the entrance, pushing the canvas aside and revealing the male tactician behind. "I'd recommend Miriel - she'd be able to tell you where you can get those ridiculous devices."

"Right after I ask her for something that'll keep you awake for longer than an hour," the female Robin snarked back. A small, but noticeable twist had appeared on her forehead; a signature frown for when she interacted with her namesake. "It would keep you up during our strategy meetings. Although I suppose there could be some side effects..."

"I'll pass on it, then," the male Robin said off-handedly. He walked to the table, fixing his eyes on the piece of paper in the female tactician's hands. "That's the letter?"

The female Robin scowled at him, then resumed reading the epistle. Or so it would have seemed to an outsider; however, Chrom suspected that she was keeping ahold of the letter out of pure spite for the male tactician. _Sweet Naga..._ Chrom thought._ Now __*I*__ feel like I could use a nap._

Male Robin grimaced, turning to look at Chrom. "That's the letter?" he asked in the same tone he had been using before.

"That's the letter," Chrom answered. "You might want to peruse the contents."

"No kidding."

"...whenever my _dear_ wife lets you do that." Chrom glanced pointedly at the female tactician, who was all but ignoring his glare. "Anytime now."

"Nevermind, I can do this tomorrow." Male Robin turned towards the tent entrance, clearly intent on exiting the scene before anybody could heap responsibilities on him.

However, the irony of his actions was in the fact that he'd turned his back on his female namesake: soon as he did, she crumpled the letter and threw it against the back of male Robin's head.

As Chrom glowered at his wife, male Robin rubbed the back of his head. "That almost hurt," he said. Then he leaned down, picked up the wad, and pried it open, the paper crackling. "We greet you, Ylissean..." he began to read, "The gemstone, Sable... Alright... At our esteemed locale, Castle Plegia... Wait, wait?! This letter's from daddy Validar?"

Chrom stopped glowering at his wife, and raised an eyebrow at Robin. "_Daddy _Validar?"

"You gotta do something to reduce the status of the menace - might as well make him a father."

Chrom leaned backward, fixing his eyes sharply on the tactician's back. _I can't decide if that comment was directed at me, _he thought. _Heavens help me – with these two, I can never tell._

Female Robin snuck next to Chrom and said, "He just wants to relate to a family that he never had."

Male Robin lifted his eyes from the letter. "...Now that's just _evil,_" he said, and let his words hang in the air for a decent while. Then he resumed the letter, face stiff and expressionless.

Chrom directed another glower at his wife. She did actually look apologetic, this time._ So, she _does_ know when she crosses the line between a jab and offense, _Chrom thought, sighing.

"So..." he said slowly, "what do we do?"

A frown appeared on Male Robin's face. "If it's a trap-"

"Then we spring it," female Robin cut in. As Chrom and male Robin turned to look at her - one seemingly curious, the other one utterly horrified - she continued, "Let me make my case. We _know_ that Validar isn't to be trusted. That knowledge will help us prepare for the worst-"

"Not for the _worst_," male Robin countered.

"-worst case scenario," female Robin continued. "Especially if we use our head in mitigating all the risks that we walk into in the first place."

Chrom made a thinking sound. "What's the payoff for taking all these risks?"

"Being able to get the last gemstone," his wife answered. "To complete the Ritual of Awakening, so that Lucina's future won't ever come to pass."

Male Robin lowered his head, becoming quiet. Chrom noted it, along with the sheer weight of necessity that had struck the tactician silent. "...What kind of knowledge are we talking about here?" he asked.

Female Robin started smiling warmly.

In contrast, male Robin groaned.

* * *

"Robin? May I disturb you for a minute?"

The male tactician glanced toward the tent entrance, then turned the papers on his table upside down. "Uh... Sure. Come in, Lucina."

Chrom's daughter entered the tent in one crouched motion, a hand holding the tent flap at bay. Once inside, she straightened herself. She was somewhat tall, had probably inherited that from her father. Her hair fell down like a clean flowing river, and her eyes looked about the tent in a curious fashion.

Soon, they fixed on the papers the tactician was still holding down. She began smiling. "Might I ask what you're hiding there?"

"You might," the tactician answered. "And I might not answer."

Lucina grimaced. "Is it something embarrassing?"

"What?" The tactician blinked a few times. Then the meaning of her words dawned upon him. "Oh, no! Nonono! It's just, uh... It's something that I've been working on, as of late - to keep my mind sharp, and all that."

"Right."

"Uhhuh."

"I believe you."

"I'm sure you do." The tactician sighed, and pushed the papers further toward the end of the desk.

"Might I interest you in a seat?" he asked, glancing around. "Wait... Where's my second chair?"

"Uh..." Lucina offered.

"I swear I had another one in here when I woke up."

"And that was...?"

"Only a couple hours ago." The tactician shook his head. "Blast it."

"It's perfectly alright," Lucina said. "I actually prefer to stand, if you don't mind."

He looked at Lucina, who stood fast, as was her natural manner. However, there was fatigue in her eyes, a wave after wave of rhythmical blinking. It was easy for Robin to see how she was simply trying to brave her tiredness through, like leaders usually did. _Why is it that you lot always try to look your best, despite the circumstances? Nobody would lose their mind if you got a moment of rest._

He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. "Here, take mine," he suggested, rising up from his chair and offering it to the resisting woman. "I could use some moving around, myself - I've been leaning on my desk long enough."

"...Thank you." Lucina stopped gesturing and accepted the chair, turning it around so that it faced the tactician. She sat down. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

Robin chuckled. "Trust me, it was no trouble. Anyway, what's your business here?"

"Ah... Um..." Lucina pushed her fingertips together, in a manner the tactician had never seen from her before. "I heard from the others that you're... in the habit of consulting people."

"True," Robin said, "depending on the issue." Which wasn't exactly true; prying out the root of any issue often required going through multiple problems. He had encountered some pretty interesting situations during the last two years, a few of them less... tolerant of daylight, than he'd appreciate. "What's troubling you, Lucina?"

"..."

From the way Lucina had fidgeted earlier and her eyes were now gazing toward some distant, and, likely, personified imagination, Robin started suspecting that she had a certain topic on her mind. "Falling for someone?"

"W-what?!" Lucina stuttered. "How did you-"

"There's always signs," he answered, sighing and flexing his stiff shoulder. "So... who's the lucky guy?"

Lucina fidgeted around. "He's a... pretty reserved one. Eloquent, yes, but a quiet person."

"So that crosses Owain out, then."

Lucina's eyes nearly bulged out at the comment. "You're not seriously saying that I-"

"No, I'm not." Robin shook his head. "It was a joke."

"Oh..." Lucina said, the sudden wildness in her features showing signs of relenting. "Uh, I'm not good with those, to be honest with you."

"Yeah, I suppose you could learn more from your father in that regard," Robin agreed.

"Indeed."

"So, the guy?"

At his question, Lucina fixed her eyes on the tent wall, gazing at it so intently she could have been drilling holes into it; possibly _would have_, had Robin let her do that for a long enough time.

"...Nevermind. We don't really need that information to solve your worries for you," he said.

She glanced to him and said, with hopefulness in her voice, "You think it's solvable?"

"Absolutely," Robin stated. "What is it that you really want to do?"

Lucina hissed in a breath, and her shoulders collapsed just a little bit lower. "I... do not know. What would you do in my situation?"

Robin rolled his eyes gently. "I have no idea. Yours is not an experience that I can remember having before."

"Sorry. I didn't think of what I was saying..."

"Don't worry about it," Robin said. He walked to the entrance and listened for the sounds of the night for a moment. After all, it wouldn't do for there to be someone listening in on a conversation like this.

Then he glanced at Lucina, who was looking down at the ground, drawing circles in the dirt with the sole of her boot. In his experience, thoughts like the one ailing Lucina tended to invade a person's head. He had learned _that_ from talking to a couple of lovesick Shepherds – men, mostly. By observing them, he'd noticed that these kinds of things were best solved quickly; a far better option than the person in question chancing a stupid death trying to look after a sweetheart that wasn't a sweetheart – the kind of stuff that romantic stories were made of.

_But how do I approach this in Lucina's case...? _he wondered._ Usually, she's rather confident. Perhaps helping to restore her faith in herself would do the trick?_

Nodding to himself, Robin turned to the woman. "I think you should make your presence known to him," he said, " for now, anyway. See how the person reacts to it, and go with the flow."

"I see," Lucina said, no longer drawing figures in the dirt. As she lifted her head a glimmer of light appeared in her eyes. "Yes, I suppose that would be a start. And then?"

"One thing at a time," Robin said. "But if you want another pointer from me... Uuuh... Well, just stay close to him. Also don't let your father find out what you're doing."

She blinked. "What's wrong with that?"

"He can be quite... protective of his kin."

"Surely not."

"You didn't see the trials he set for Lon'qu."

"Trials?"

"Yes. Kill a grizzly bear, make a feast out of its meat, and convince everybody that it tastes good."

Lucina blinked. "You're joking."

"Yes. Good job on picking up on that." Robin chuckled and then shook his head. "Anyway... That advice should work, for the beginning stages at least."

"I see," Lucina said, nodding. "I should seek for more advice later, then."

Robin shook his head. "Try and see if you can't solve this on your own. The less I have to do with your efforts, the more genuine they will be."

"Um... Alright. I'll do just that."

Robin smiled. "Good," he said. "Any other troubles as of late?"

Lucina made a negative sound. "All I needed to ask about was this."

"Alright." Robin glanced around, then fixed his eyes to Lucina, who was still sitting in his chair. "So... I should probably get back to my devices."

Lucina glanced at the table where his papers rested. "Yes, indeed. Are you sure you don't want to show me what's in there?"

"_Quite_ sure."

"Hmph." Lucina raised her chin and crossed her arms. "These bonds we have are rather flimsy indeed."

"Er..." Robin muttered, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry. It's just that the subject matter is... quite offensive to certain people."

Lucina burst into warm chuckles. "No, no, it's quite alright. I was only... making fun of you."

Robin adopted a deadpan face.

Lucina started squirming. "It... didn't work out as intended?"

"...Nah. It was great. Just didn't expect it from you," Robin said, flashing a smile. "It's always nice to meet a quick learner."

"Hm. I try my best."

"I'm sure you do."

Lucina rose up from his chair. "I... should go."

Robin nodded, walking to the chair. "Good luck with your endeavours," he offered while grabbing it. "Let's hope that you strike lucky."

"Yeah," Lucina simply said, walking to the tent door. Once there, she stopped while holding her hand to the tent flap. She turned to look back at Robin."If... at any time, I wish to come and talk about other things... Will that be alright?"

"Absolutely," Robin said, putting his chair down next to his desk. "Any time, with troubles or without."

"I hope you'll have no secret projects going on at that time."

"Hm. So do I."

"...Well then, I'm off."

"Watch your step, Lucina," he said.

Lucina smiled to him and raised the tent flap; then once more, she made her way through the tent entrance, not minding the obstacle that the flap posed. She always moved like that: with a gait more akin to Chon'sin swordswomen, than a bold Ylissean warrior. _I suppose her future encouraged foot-work a lot more than upper-body exercises._

Thinking that, Robin turned back to his papers, stretching to reach them. Then he sat down, turned the papers on their right side and looked at the red circles layered across the blueprint. "Well then..." he said, picking up his quill from a small bottle of red ink. "Let's see how many strategic oversights I'll have to fix _this_ time."


	2. Compelling

****Author's Notes: Wow. This chapter took WAY too long to write. At least it's finally complete. ****

****As always, my thanks go to Tsuna for reading ShoE's ridiculous drafts. Now, before you lot start reading this chapter, there's something that I want to say.****

****First off, as I stated in my previous author's notes, this story was always prone to not being continued. I will honestly state that the next chapter of "Shade of Eventide" is fully up in the air(I know how I'd write it, but I have other things to do at the moment). Also, I've been writing an original work of mine, and the ideas that I'm juggling are starting to get nicely coherent. Plus, there's school.****

****However, I still have that third chapter of "Case of a Sneezing Wyvern" that I've been writing. I'm planning to complete that before the summer. No promises, though - but it's there, and it's coming. ****

****As to the next chapter of Shade of Eventide... I do want to continue the story, I just have to find the time for it. I don't know when I'll find the time, but when I do, I'll write the third chapter for it. For the moment, though, I'm consumed with writing my own work(which - I hope - I'll be able to talk more about before the NEXT year is over).****

****That is all that I had to say. Enjoy the chapter, and I hope to hear _your_ opinion on it.****

* * *

****Everlasting Bonds: Shade of Eventide****

__**Compelling**__

Robin woke up to the feeling of grass stalks tickling at her neck. She lay on her coat, her hair a wild octopus sprawling about her.

She brought a lock of her hair closer for observation: it was dirty, the lower threads being covered in mud and likely infested by a few generations of whatever insect lived in the grass.

__Gross,__ Robin thought. She let go of her hair, setting her arms lazily down on either side. __One more thing to worry about, __she ruminated. _As if_ I didn't have enough____ on my mind.__

She looked up at the sky, and let herself sink into the vastness of the light-blue expanse. Her mind began to drift away from the dark visions of the future, and the blackouts that always followed them. Instead, overridden by what appeared to be a soothing calm, she soaked in on the ethereal peace, closing her eyes once more.

"_Mnnn..." _she heard from close by - almost too close. Whoever the person was, they began smacking their lips, like an overly content child would.

Alarmed that someone had managed to sneak so close, Robin scrambled up and reached for her sword.

Her right hand reached nothing but air. She glanced down at her belt, face contorting in unbelief. _Gone? _she thought. _Of _course_ it's gone._

She shuffled quickly backwards and turned to where the strange sounds had come from._ What did I think? That I would remember to gird myself with a weapon in case something like this happened? Chrom would laugh me to scorn._

Soon, her confused eyes found a person sleeping in the grass. A long-haired maiden, who wore a Grimleal cloak.

"...Dear me," she finally muttered, unable to do much else than stare.

* * *

He woke up on a cold stone slab, in a room that was awash with the light of a setting desert sun. The air here smelled putrid - rotten, even. Like old fish, only more pungent.

He saw in his narrow view a black-painted rack, which held a chaotic array of saws, tongs and hammers; everything and anything you'd expect from a carpenter, or perhaps a mason. These tools, though, had a thin coat of blood on them. __Certainly something you wouldn't expect in an idyllic place like this, __he thought.

He sat up on the slab; its stone surface had been an uncomfortable resting place, too cold and rough...

He caught a look down his arms and his breath stopped in his lungs. As he studied the criss-crossing stitches in his arms, and the unnatural bulk that the stitches seemed to tie together, a chilling feeling descended upon him, taking hold of his faculties. "W-what is this?" he gasped.

And then, it hit him: his breath had never stopped. It was simply that he hadn't drawn a breath in the first place.

He was now - of all things deplorable - a... Risen.

"What in Naga's name is __this_?!_" the man bellowed. He jumped to his feet - which, despite being as grey as his arms, obeyed effortlessly. "I swear I will __rip apart __the first person that I find-"

"_Cease _your yelling," a voice commanded from behind him, echoing against the far walls of the room. "And be so kind as to sit down," the voice continued, "for we aren't done with you yet."

As if in direct response to the voice and its command, a _weight _manifested in the Risen's guts. The Risen tried to move in a gambit of desperation; however, he managed to only cause a tremble in his arms, and perhaps another in the left leg.

The weight magnified, and the Risen was cast down against the stone slab in a sharp angle.

He felt no pain.

"What is this?" the Risen asked. After asking his question, the Risen noticed that both power and volume had disappeared from his voice. Perhaps the order to _cease_ _yelling_ had been yet another compelling.

The Risen heard boots clopping against the stone; the mysterious fellow was moving about in the hall. The Risen tried to move his head to study the fellow. However, his limbs stood still - like those of a real corpse.

_Technically, I _am_ one,_ he thought. _I can remember my passing._

After a short eternity, the fellow finally stopped before the Risen. The Risen could only see a garment from his slouch - a regal robe made of black and gold fabric. Purple eyes adorned its sleeves, and its gold-rimmed hem barely touched the ground.

And on the ground, there was a vile pattern. Red and intricate, it started from the slab, sprawling outward like a host of snakes, lizards and dragons.

The Risen took these details in. The horror of the realization began to seep into his being. _No... Have I been summoned? Necromancy? Henry, you lunatic, I thought you were lying when you said this is possible!_

As the Risen struggled with his thoughts, the fellow knelt down before him. He was a dark-skinned man, his beard like an icicle, trimmed and ordered. A fire ruled in his eyes, hungry for the invisible things; his grin was malicious and instantly familiar to the Risen.

"Hmm... She could've done a better patching job on your left arm," the sorcerer muttered.

The Risen shuddered.

The sorcerer glanced up at the Risen, showing no revulsion. "Oh, there is no need for worry," he said. "I'll make sure she fixes it before sending you into action; it took a considerable effort to summon you, and your like, here – I wouldn't want you all to collapse in a heap of body parts in the very first battle."

The Risen tried to swallow, then realizing that it was an old reflex back from when he had a body. _Damn this! Damn the fates! Damn the design that brought me here, wherever this is!_

Then he was struck with an intuition: maybe he shouldn't ask _where_, but __when. __The Risen thought about it, grimacing mentally at the endless possibilities: there wasn't enough information to make a definite conclusion.

After a short deliberation, he decided to risk it all. "Where... are we?" he asked.

It was a question meant to divulge small details from any answer that Validar could offer.

Validar arose. "That is not for you to know," he said calmly. "Although I suppose you'll find out eventually."

"Why not just tell-"

The sorcerer laid his hand on the Risen's forehead. "I'll show you why. _Tell me your name._"

The Risen blinked, then groaned, the dark compelling twisting his insides and trying to force him to utter the truth. "I-I... am not..."

"Let me explain why I don't have to explain anything," Validar said. "I have bound you under my will. You shall obey me. If you don't, Grima's power shall rend you asunder. And if you don't _believe me..._"

Validar raised his hand; the compelling became a sharp pain across the Risen's body, like a spear thrust through the length of it. "Argh! AAAAARGH! I... I AM..."

The Risen fell to his screams, shouting out his name.

Validar blinked; a confused flick of a hand released the Risen from his compelling. The sorcerer looked down at the imprisoned soul, and, again, complete silence reigned in the room.

After a long minute, the sorcerer began to laugh. The sound of it ripped through the Risen's ears, all the way into his soul where he realized that Validar still had a part for him to play.

* * *

"Come on," female Robin coaxed the girl. "The inn lies just beyond this corner."

The girl who had - with letters drawn in the air - introduced herself as "Morgan" stopped walking, peering nervously about. Her hair, hastily neatened, rested over one shoulder, and occasionally the girl paid Robin a drifting, cautious glance.

The female tactician smiled warmly to the girl, trying to seek out the cerulean eyes hiding under Morgan's amethyst bangs. "I bet the cooks have baked something nice for us Shepherds," she said to her. "But let's not take _too_ long, lest a certain ravenous eater consume all of the pastries."

The girl's posture straightened, the glint of intelligence in her eyes growing clearer and more focused.

Robin chuckled. "I thought that'd spike your interest."

Morgan flashed her a smile.

Feeling warm inside, Robin started walking backwards. Soon, she turned about and rounded the awaiting corner.

The inn where she was staying at stood at the opposite side of the street. The property appeared slightly run-down, as if down on its luck and awaiting better times. For some reason, it still oozed "home" to Robin, even while her true home waited for her across the sea.

A small crowd had made the inn's porch its figurative home: some of the people were locals - individuals curious about the Shepherds, Ylissean royalty, and everything in-between. Others were Shepherds themselves, socializing by means of storytelling, courteous nodding, or scratching the back of their confused head.

This moderate chaos was where Robin brought her daughter.

She observed the crowd._ I suppose that__ it's nigh-impossible to get through this throng_ w_ithout making a scene, _she thought. People were packed like sardines in a barrel. The matter was mostly Virion's fault: the archer was gesturing widely in the midst of the throng, sharing a once-upon-a-time heroic of his. The general form of his anecdote was correct and truthful, but the details had long since been scorched in the fires of his passion.

Robin shook her head and turned to look at Morgan. The girl had fixed her eyes to the archer, head swaying at the promptings of his gestures.

Robin blinked at her daughter.__ Oh, sweet child... __she thought. She raised her hand to wave it briskly, and thus catch Morgan's attention. _How I wish that _you_ weren't prone to his influence._

"Oi, Robin!" a shout hailed her across the crowd. "That your sprog?"

Robin's hand froze in the air._ S_he turned about and found the shouter: a red-haired woman wearing a red breastplate. Sully - the woman - was sitting on a chair on the porch, next to a small, round table. Across the table sat Kjelle. Someone had apparently convinced the stiff girl to discard her armour, as she wore a tan peasant shirt and a pair of oversized trousers. She sat on her chair with her legs crossed, leaning back; her eyes were offering the cards in her hand a sort of a "stabby, stabby" glare.

The tactician decided not to stay and stare. "Yes, Sully," she answered. "She's my daughter."

She immediately heard someone turn around behind her; Morgan had apparently woken up from her reverie.

The crowd started murmuring, the Shepherds' reactions being the loudest.

Meanwhile, Sully rubbed her chin in sharp strokes. "So... you basically got another kid?

"Yeah," Robin said flatly.

Heavy clatter and running steps ensued upon her answer. An exasperated shout echoed from one of the inn's upper windows: "Who's got yet another one?!"

The female tactician's face drew into a grimace. _He's already awake?!_

The male tactician peeked out from the window of his room. "Robin?!" he shouted, eyes falling upon the female tactician and her daughter. "You again?" The male tactician grinned as if enjoying some joke that only he was privy to. "Wait 'till Chrom hears about this!"

The female tactician let out a low snarl. "Won't be long, what with the volume of voice you're exerting."

"Oh, I haven't even started yet," male Robin said, puffing his chest out.

"_You wouldn't dare_-"

The male tactician smirked. Then, he raised his hands and - as if calling for a force of nature - bellowed, _"Chrom!"_

Upon his invocation, steps began to resound within the inn; soon, the white-and-blue-clad prince appeared at the inn's door. Chrom glanced tiredly upward, as if accustomed to the male tactician's antics.

"What?" he asked.

Male Robin grinned. "You got another one!"

"Another what?" Chrom asked. He observed the crowd lazily - and then with a little more alarm as he noted its peaking excitement. "Another _what?"_

Then Chrom's features turned rigid, his eyes fixing onto something past the female tactician.

Female Robin swallowed.

Meanwhile, the other Robin couldn't help his enthusiasm. "Another kid!" he chirped from above. "This is a cause for celebration! I'll bring the cake!"

"Wait, don't-" Chrom tried to shout to him. The male tactician, however, had already scrambled away from the window and could be heard rushing down the stairs. "Damn," Chrom muttered. He moved his eyes back to the girl, then started walking towards her.

The crowd erupted in congratulations and brotherly slights. A few Shepherds slapped Chrom's upper back as he walked past them - most notably Vaike, whose blow almost sent Chrom reeling into other people.

Seeing what kind of exchange would soon take place, Robin caught Morgan's shoulder. She pulled her closer - not hurtfully, albeit with some force. The girl seemed like she needed the encouragement.

And then Chrom was there. He and Morgan started sizing each other up; an act emphasized by their height difference, as the former was at least two heads taller than the latter.

"Well..." Chrom eventually managed.

Unfortunately, he didn't get any further. The inn door smashed open, and everyone turned to look at the newly-arrived male Robin. The tactician was holding a muffin in each hand, grasping the goods as though they were trophies. "The cake was a lie!" he declared in a heart-rending tone. "But I managed to salvage two celebratory muffins, in case you're down for some jubilant hullabaloo." The male tactician left the suggestion open and started wading down through the crowd, towards Chrom.

Female Robin watched Chrom rub his eyes. _You're tired,_ she thought. _When's the last time that you slept?_

The last time her husband had been so undone had resulted in a rather curious situation.

Robin saw her husband perk up suddenly. "Sign me in," he said, then proceeding to dexterously snatch both of the muffins from the male tactician. He then turned around, leaving the male tactician standing agape, and leaned down to Morgan, offering her one of the just-confiscated muffins. "Welcome to the family."

It didn't take long for the girl's anxiety to fade: Morgan bopped a quick thank-you-nod, whisked away the muffin and bit in. Soon she offered the most splendid crumb-decorated smile to both tacticians and Chrom.


End file.
